Could Use a Little Hot Sauce
by silbecoo
Summary: Liv gets a little hot and bothered after a brush with death and Babineaux is happy to give her a helping hand.


**A/n: one shot unrepentant smut. I drank a bottle of wine and the mood struck.**

Gunshots rang out in the narrow alleyway. The sound was like firecrackers to Liv, echoing against the wet brick. Her breaths came quick and fast. Clive Babineaux lowered his weapon slowly, the tension in his shoulders relaxing as it came down. Adrenaline still pumped through him. "Are you okay?"

She swallowed hard, heart beating like a piston in her chest. "Yeah I'm fine, you?"

He nodded, looking down at the man who had been intent on killing them both. He was pale in death, not unlike in life. The man was a zombie, just like Liv… but not really. Liv had a conscience and a reliable source of brains. This bastard had been feeding off the homeless.

This had been Liv's closest brush with death since the fateful night on the Max Rager cruise. Stepping so close to the hooded reaper had set an unexpected flow of chemicals through her veins. At the moment Detective Babineaux was her savior, and her body was responding to that picture in a quite archaic manner. She walked up to him, chest still heaving from their encounter.

She knew this was the same Detective Babineaux's as always, that nothing had changed really, but the knowledge that this gun wielding badass had been lurking just beneath the surface all the time she'd known him only revved her engine harder. All those times he'd stepped between her and some threatening asshole, this is what he'd been harboring... It was a bit much for her to handle. "Detective…" She walked up to him, placing one hand on his chest, the other dropping down to his belt buckle suggestively. "Is there any way I can repay you for saving my life?"

He was surprised, understandably so. He held her at bay, strong hands grasping her upper arms. "Liv, does this have anything to do with... um… your, uh, dinner tonight?"

She cursed. She regretted telling him about her dietary needs and their various side effects. He needed to know about her condition, and the nature of her "visions," but it made it difficult when her every decision was questionable to the detective.

She lied. "No, it's not. Henrietta was a staid librarian, with an admittedly questionable browser history, but absolutely no desire to give policemen blowjobs in alleyways."

She bit her bottom lip, hoping her falsehood was convincing. In a way it was true… the desires of Henrietta were far more varied and imaginative than oral sex.

His eyes widened, and he let her go. Swallowing hard, her hands resumed their downward journey. There was nothing to stop her from unfastening his buckle this time.

She dropped to her knees, barely registering the feel of the cold wet concrete against her jean clad knees. The length of him against her fingers was too warm for her to think about anything else, and when he gasped power surged through her frame. She loved having him in the palm of her hand… literally.

She took him in her mouth… slowly, relishing the feel of his velvety skin against her lips. Hard in seconds, he was bigger than she expected, and she curled her fingers around the base of his cock to compensate, enjoying the way she could feel him against her tongue.

He threaded his fingers through her hair, tugging at the locks each time she pulled back a little. He was eager to be enveloped by her, twitching his hips each time she came back down. She braced her free hand against his abdomen, his hard muscles rippling beneath her cool touch. Clive Babineaux certainly took care of himself.

His breathing became erratic, head falling back against the wall behind him. He gasped out her name, reaching down to touch her shoulder. "Liv… wait.. I'm almost…"

She knew it was a courtesy, something he was doing to save her dignity. She was better than the hookers who gave blowies in the alley for five bucks. She supposed… But a part of her liked the idea of feeling him convulse against her, the hot liquid coating the back of her throat as she swallowed against him.

She ignored the tapping, sucking hard against him. He groaned louder, hand falling away from her shoulder. When he came it wasn't exactly what she expected. She hadn't done this since before her transformation, and while she thought the faintly sweet taste could possibly be reminiscent of pineapple (he was a healthy guy after all) she couldn't help but think it would be all the better with a little hot sauce.

He sagged against the brick, panting through the last drawn out groan. Standing up, she arched against him like a satisfied cat, one corner of her mouth twitching up in a smug smile. "You like that?"

He laughed weakly, reaching down to pull the zipper back up. This time it was him that had a predatory gleam in his eye. She saw where this was going, shaking her head in sad refusal. "That's not something you can do… unless you want to wake up tomorrow with a hankering for brains."

He arched one eyebrow at her curiously. "Oh?"

She nodded, stepping in closer. She like the way he looked after an orgasm, all the coiled tension he carried around in his shoulders was gone, arms relaxed at his side, panting just slightly. She could get used to this look on his face. Gone was the professional facade, replaced by a lazy smile and soft expression.

She got lost in studying his features, the personality of her latest dinner finally peaking through. Henrietta was quite the kinky librarian sure, but when she wasn't busy aggregating a large collection of downright shocking erotica, her other passion had been Greek sculpture, and Clive Babineaux's cheekbones were something to catalogue alongside the classics. She traced the lines of his face with one cool finger, continuing to gaze up at him.

His fingers curled around her wrist, almost roughly as he dragged her hand away. She gasped, letting him spin her around and pin her to the wall. Sure, she could easily overpower him of she wanted, but she kind of liked him taking charge… for the time being.

"Liv, there has to be something…" His face was close to hers, hot breath mingling with her own. She couldn't help but let out a little sigh when he touched the bare skin of her midriff, skimming along the pale flesh just at the hem of her shirt, fingers lingering on the placket of her jeans. So persistent.

The laugh that escaped her was one part amusement and two parts naked desire. "There is."

His knee wedged between her legs, spreading them further apart. He made short work of the closure, deftly unfastening the solitary button and easing the zipper down. She was damp against him, soaking the thin cotton where he cupped her, the heel of his palm applying experimental pressure. "Like this?"

She squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation, nodding so he would know to keep going. It was all the encouragement he needed, lips finding the pounding pulse at her neck at the same time his lithe fingers slipped beneath the flimsy elastic band. He was touching her now, no barrier between their flushed skin.

He grunted, the pressure of her grip on his arms almost painful. She was forgetting herself in the moment, too intent on the feel of him slipping inside of her to reign it in. Clearly he'd done this before, fingers deftly stroking her until she was shuddering on the edge of climax. Before she could give into to the waves of pleasure crashing over her, he dipped two fingers deeper inside, curling them up at a shallow angle. It was a different feeling, a deeper stimulation that sent her flying off into the abyss.

Her eyes flew open, involuntary shudders fluttering through her body like electric shocks. She whispered harshly in his ear, begging him not to stop. He obliged, instead going quicker, increasing pressure until she was moaning in his ear, her fingers digging into his hard biceps.

Finally it happened, stars exploding behind her eyes, tremors of pleasure pulsing around his slender fingers. Arching against him, she held on for dear life, letting out the final guttural animal noises inside of her.

She sagged against him, enjoying the feel of his arms around her as he held her up. It only lasted a moment, the sound of sirens in the distance getting closer. They pulled apart, Liv buttoning her jeans almost sheepishly. There were a million excuses waiting on the tip of her tongue, so many reasons this should just be written off. "Look, maybe Henrietta -"

He cut her off, hooking one hand in the crook of her elbow and dragging her back to him. When he kissed her, she began to catalogue again. This time it was the softness of his lips, the day's worth of stubble scraping along her skin, the strangely pleasant aroma of the shitty instant coffee he made at the station that still clung to him. They broke apart as the sirens crescendoed at the end of the alley.

Clive smiled at her, or rather smirked, one eyebrow arching as it had before. "I think, if we're counting, you still owe me one."

She laughed. "If we're counting."

"My place, tonight, after all this mess is wrapped up." He gestured to the police officers peering down at the dead body.

She nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

He was all work now, a look of intense concentration sliding down over his features, but Liv saw the corner of his mouth twitch, fighting a smile. She liked this side of him, the man beneath the stoicism… and everything else.


End file.
